Memories of Her
by Gabigail
Summary: It’s no surprise that this turned out to be an Elle and Gideon piece.


Disclaimer: Criminal Minds and its characters are the creation of Jeff Davis and are copy written under CBS (as far as I can tell). Wintersong is written and performed by Sarah McLachlan (it's a beautiful piece of music that wouldn't let me sleep). No infringement upon their rights is intended. The stories written under the penname Gabigail, however, do belong to me. None are written for profit and are intended for entertainment purposes only.

A/N: I know that I'm supposed to be in the middle of Pull Me Through, but like another little piece that cried out to be written... This did too. I think it's the time of year (I'm waiting for the snow)…. As the title implies it is a very simple piece. I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

It felt like the longest flight home he had endured in his entire life. Possibly the most empty. He had managed to detach himself from the team's excitement and tucked himself away in the hope of avoiding questions pertaining to his mood. Granted, he had been relieved that they had out witted yet another un-sub— with that victory, another check in the column for the good guys. However, it failed in making him feel any better. Usually, a happy ending, or something close enough would lighten his mood. Wanting a quiet moment to private thought, he sat back and contented himself to observing his team. Hotchner was busy writing his report, Reid sat on one end of the sofa speed reading with J.J. stretched across the sofa; resting her head on the pillow on his lap, and Morgan sat back listening to his iPod. Usually, he would allow himself to steal a sideways glance at her, yet she would no longer be with them. Instead, their newest edition— one he wasn't entirely sure would last must longer, Emily Prentiss, who also bore a shocking resemblance to Elle, sat quietly reading. What was another case under their belts if Elle wasn't there to share in their moment; Elle was— he was unsure, only that the last he had heard from her, she had written him from New York. It had even been a possibility that she had merely dropped it into a mail box on her way to wherever she chose to be. Wherever that was, he hoped that she had found happiness.

* * *

He brought the collar of his winter jacket up around his neck, shielding it from the cold gusts of wind that encircled him and he continued to hike through the moonlight woods. He paused and listened to the quiet that surrounded him and took a slow, deep, breath and let the snow scented air fill his lungs. Picking up the pace, he wandered back towards the cabin and down towards the frozen lake. He stood on the thickly snow covered dock and stared out at the moon kissed snow that glistened like diamonds as it fluttered about, caught within the gentle wind that played with the fresh powder. He then looked up at the night sky and smiled as the stars began to emerge; some taking their time as if poking through velvety deep purple, nearly black velvet sky; others pushed through with ease. Yes, it was winter, but he had brought her up to his cabin—shared with her the one place he felt the safest in an attempt to help her through the trauma of her own experiences—pull from her the emotions of feeling afraid. He turned around and made his way back up towards the cabin, stopping to enjoy how the evergreens cradled the snow that rested upon their bows, while trees that were thin and naked almost seemed to shiver silently in the evening wind.

_The lake is frozen over  
__The trees are white with snow  
__And all around  
__Reminders of you  
__Are everywhere I go_

Pausing just short of opening the cabin door, he grinned at the memory of the first time he had brought her to his sanctuary. He could almost hear her voice and if he closed his eyes for a moment in concentration, could even hear her melodic laugh—opening his eyes, he opened the door and closed it behind him and just as quickly, the memory began to fade. Every inch of his cabin reminded him of her and the far too short time they shared together. He removed his warm winter jacket, hung it on a hook behind the door, untied the laces on his warn boots, removed them, and placed them on the mat. It was a short walk to the refrigerator, where he took out the carton of milk, grabbed the oldest looking sauce pan he had— one he always used for making hot coca, then found his mug to measure the correct amount of milk. He stirred the milk until it was the correct temperature then added the coca, before carefully pouring the hot beverage back into the mug. He knew he was alone, and yet it hardly felt like it, as he could feel her ghost surrounding him, following him from room to room—staying close to him inside and out. A heavy sigh escaped his cold lips and he sat in front of the fire. He carefully sipped the hot beverage and watched the flames as they engaged in a passionate, off-beat dance while consuming the logs. Careful to poke the fire before turning in for the night, Gideon turned out the lights behind him— leaving darkness in his wake.

Unable to sleep, he tossed and turned. Finally, he sighed loudly in frustration and turned his head to glance at the clock on the bedside table—three on the dot blared out at him in bright neon green and he rolled over, putting his back towards the clock. It felt longer, but only a measly half hour had passed and he sighed once more and rolled onto his side, then his back— he stared at the ceiling for a moment before sitting up and letting his eyes adjust to the soft glow of the moon that still hung in the night sky and some of her gentle cool silver blue hued afterglow that filled the room. He watched as web like clouds moved across her and the stars that had once been out to play under her watchful eye, now shimmered and slowly poked back through the velvety near morning sky. Falling back, he settled himself once more, rolled onto his side and shifted until he felt comfortable; grabbed a pillow and brought it to his chest as though it were her, and finally closed his eyes. His eyes snapped open— jolted from sleep and a dream that had felt so incredibly real that he actually had thought she still lay sleeping beside him, wrapped within his loving embrace. The sky outside his window now pitch, he turned again to check the time, which felt as though it were mocking him. Five forty-six taunted him, the answer to his internal inquiry— still too early for morning, yet not in many ways for him. He dropped his head back upon the pillow, let it caress and cradle his head as he closed his eyes once more— sleep finally answered his silent plea.

_It's late and morning's in no hurry  
__But sleep won't set me free  
__I lie awake and try to recall  
__How your body felt beside me  
__When silence gets too hard to handle  
__And the night too long_

He loved to stand at the large, picture window while he sipped his morning coffee— savouring the bitterness that his taste buds had grown accustomed to. He observed the sun as she took her sweet time in rising above the snow covered trees. It wasn't meant to be a heavy sigh, but it escaped his lips nonetheless and he let his mind wander once again— his facial expression bearing a wistful, far off glance. The time they had shared together up at his cabin, had been a wonderful diversion for both of them. He licked his lips and let the wide grin that caressed them win as he recalled the snowball fight Elle had started. I'm sure I was winning, he recalled. In fact he had been; however, Elle had managed to sneak up behind him empty-handed and grab him around the waist, toppling them onto the snow covered ground. Somehow she had been the first to entangle herself and therefore, first to her feet. He remembered how it had begun to snow and she enthusiastically flung her arms up in the air and spun around until he joined her in a snow-globe waltz. After which, she found an untouched patch of snow and threw herself backwards— making a snow angel. He held out his hand and helped her to her feet and they stared at each other for a long moment. He had loved how the snow rested in her long wavy hair and how it stuck onto her thick eyelashes. He turned away from the window with a deep chuckle as he recalled how mistletoe was completely unnecessary.

_And this is how I see you  
__In the snow on Christmas morning  
__Love and happiness surround you  
__As you throw your arms up to the sky  
__I keep this moment by and by  
__Oh I miss you now, my love  
__…  
__  
And this is how I see you  
__In the snow on Christmas morning  
__Love and happiness surround you  
__As you throw your arms up to the sky  
__I keep this moment by and by_


End file.
